Instant Gratification
by paganpunk2
Summary: Patience isn't one of Batman's virtues. So why is he so adamant that Robin master it? One-shot, flufftastic. Part of the Spark in the Dark series.


**Author's Note: This is just a happy little one-shot that popped into my head. For those of you familiar with my other stories, in my head this falls into the same universe as 'Princely Pardon,' 'Of Friends and Foes,' 'Ache of Cowardice,' and 'To Catch A Predator.' Happy reading! **

Dick bounded down the stairs into the cave, jumped the last five risers, and landed in a roll. Popping to his feet, he moved silently to where Bruce sat, involved in paperwork. "What're you doing?" the eleven year old inquired, standing on his toes in order to peek over his shoulder.

"Grading your exams from last night."

"Oh." He may have been working as Robin for almost two full years, but his introduction to the streets hadn't meant an end to his book learning. Every two weeks his guardian would hand him a new list of things to memorize, research, and practice, and a fortnight later he was subject to tests on everything he'd been told to focus on. The previous evening had marked the end of the most recent studying block, and before going on patrol he'd answered questions on topics ranging from wind chill to sociology. There had been a particularly nasty set of chemistry problems that he was nervous about, and he surveyed the desk anxiously, hoping that page had been corrected already. "…Did you do my antidote sheet yet?"

"No. I'm saving it for last."

"Meanie," he muttered. _You know I'm worried about it, so why couldn't you do it first?_

"Instant gratification isn't something you should come to expect in life, Dick. You know that."

"If _you_ know I know it, then why make me wait?"

Bruce couldn't help but smirk. "Because it's fun to watch you bounce around the house in a fluster sometimes. And because it never hurts to practice a little patience."

"Patience isn't exactly one of Batman's virtues," the boy pointed out.

"No, it isn't. But that doesn't mean it can't be one of yours."

"Hypocrite."

"We're all hypocrites in our own ways, kiddo." He glanced over at him, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "You know that, too."

"Gah!" the child threw up his hands. "Will you at least tell me how I did on the ones you _have_ graded?"

"You haven't failed anything yet."

"Good." He scuffed his feet, watching as Bruce continued checking his work. After a few minutes the billionaire set the page he'd been examining aside and pulled the next one forward. To Dick's surprise, he then rifled through a file and retrieved a second form that bore a close resemblance to his test. "Is that an _answer sheet_?" he gaped.

"Yes." He turned to look at him with a slight frown. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"That's…that's not fair!"

"What do you mean it isn't _fair_?" He swiveled to face him entirely now, crossing his arms with a bemused expression.

"Well, you make me memorize all this stuff, and then you not only test me on it right then, you bring it up on later quizzes, too. And I'm supposed to still remember it all, and be able to just pull it out of thin air whenever you want me to."

"Right. And?" he arched an eyebrow.

"But _you_ don't even know it! You had to make an answer sheet!" He huffed, a glare and a pout mingling on his face. "_That's_ hypocrisy, right there."

"So what are you saying, Dick, your teachers at school don't use solution guides? They just know all the answers off the tops of their heads?"

"…Well, no, but…but they aren't _you_. You're better than them."

"That was flattering, but untrue."

"None of _them_ are Batman."

"So?"

"So…" he shrugged. "Batman always has the answers."

_I wish. _"I promise you, chum, that there are plenty of moments when he doesn't."

"But no one can ever tell that! And you always make _me _come up with answers, even when you already know them. I get that they're training exercises, blah, blah, blah, but…but there's so much that you know that I don't," his voice dropped. "And now you're not even teaching me the things you know. You're teaching me other stuff. How am I ever going to get as good as you are if you won't tell me what you know, Bruce?"

_Oh, Dicky, you look like someone just kicked your puppy. Hard. _"Is _that_ what you're worried about? That you won't be as good as me someday?"

"Well…yeah. I mean…I worry about that a lot," he confessed, staring at the floor.

Bruce reached out and tipped his chin up until their gazes met. "Do you know why I make you memorize things that I don't know myself?"

"No. I probably wouldn't be so upset if I did."

"No, you probably wouldn't be," he agreed. "In a way, though, you kind of half-guessed it. I don't want you to be as good as I am." He heard the boy's breath catch, saw his eyes suddenly filling with hurt tears, and went on quickly. "I want you to be _better_ than I am. And one of the best ways to do that is to give you all the knowledge I have, and then some."

"…You r-really mean that?"

"Of course I do." He sighed. "Every parent hopes that their child will turn out better than they themselves are, Dick. Someday maybe you'll understand that." _That day,_ he whispered to himself. He hoped he would still be around to see it, not only because he naturally desired to know his future grandchild but because he wanted to see the realization in his son's face, the acknowledgement of all the fierce, tangled emotions that came with fatherhood, the things he himself had been wrestling with for two and a half years.

"…Bruce," he breathed, feeling overwhelmed as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his neck. Strong hands lifted him easily and held him close, and for a moment they were silent.

"…Still mad at me for using an answer sheet?" the man teased.

"Huh-uh," he shook his head against his guardian's throat. "But…I _do_ want to know how I did on the antidotes."

The billionaire laughed. "Okay, okay. I'll do that one next. Go get ready for patrol, it's distracting when you hover around."

"Okay!" He skipped off to change, his upset replaced with joy. _Not just as good as Batman,_ he thought, a broad grin wreathing his face. _Better__. He thinks he can make me better…_ It was the best compliment he had ever received, and although he didn't know it, the ambitious neurons it fired in his brain would drive his development for years to come.

Left alone in the main part of the cave, Bruce also found a slow smile creeping across his lips. _Perfect,_ he shook his head with a slight chuckle. _He was so worried, but these antidotes are exactly correct. That's my boy. _

"So?" an eager voice interrupted him mere minutes after it had disappeared.

"You changed fast," he raised an eyebrow as he looked over to find him fully garbed in his Robin gear.

"…You're not done grading it yet, are you?" the boy's shoulders slumped.

"What did I say about instant gratification?"

"It's an antidote worksheet. I would think even Batman would want as instant of gratification as possible if he'd been poisoned by any of those formulas."

There was no stopping the laugh that quip drew. "Well," he recovered, "at least now I know who to turn to for a cure if I ever _am_ exposed to any of these."

"…They were right?" Even with his mask on, his surprise was obvious.

"Every last one of them. One hundred percent."

"Yes!" he exclaimed loudly. "'Scuse me a second." Bolting to his uneven bars, he leapt, grabbed hold, and did a few victory flips before flying back to Bruce. He slid to a stop in front of him, clearly delighted. "Yay! I was so worried I did them all wrong…"

"Well, you didn't," he congratulated him. "You know what that means."

"Ice cream after patrol?"

He sputtered. _I should have expected that._ "…Sure. But," he cut off another cheer, "it also means you get _harder_ ones in the next set."

"…Are they all going to be ones that you know how to do off the top of your head?"

"I thought you didn't like that I had to use an answer sheet?"

"I changed my mind," he said simply.

He regarded him cautiously. "I'm going to take those words at face value, Dick. Be sure you mean it, because if you do, your tests are going to get much, much harder."

"That's okay. I…I want to make you proud."

_Rising to any challenge, as usual, _he thought as he knelt in front of him. "You already do," he stated quietly.

"…Proud_er_, then. I mean, it's not like there's a ceiling on that, right?"

"Not unless you count my head exploding."

"…Alfred would feed me nothing but bologna for a week if that happened. Maybe you should make them, like, medium tough, just in case."

"Sounds like a plan," he nodded with a serious mien. "Now…are you ready for patrol?"

"I am. But you're not," he pointed out.

"Instant-" Bruce started to chastise.

"-Gratification," Dick finished, rolling his eyes. "You're going to make this patience thing really difficult on me, aren't you?"

"There's an old saying, kiddo; 'we teach best what we need to learn most.'" With that and what the child would have sworn was a tiny wink, he disappeared around the corner to change.

_'We teach best what we need to learn most?' _he puzzled. _So…he's impatient, by his own admission. Which means patience is something he really needs to learn. Which means he's going to teach it to me 'best'…but Batman's idea of the best way to teach me something is make it as difficult as possible so that it always seems easy afterwards…_ "Aw, crap!" he moaned loudly.

Somewhere in the locker area, he heard Bruce laughing.


End file.
